


Worth It

by AmuMcRobot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Derek, M/M, Rimming, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmuMcRobot/pseuds/AmuMcRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on Tumblr (kind of):</p>
<p>my favorite college experience is when i had a 7am class and the kid next to me literally poured a monster energy drink into his coffee said “i’m going to die” and drank the whole thing</p>
<p>#pick an otp imagine them meeting like this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

In hindsight, signing up for a 7am class was _not_ a good way to “get the day over with earlier, Derek, and then you can be home by lunch!” He’s going to kill Erica, if he ever recovers from having to wake up at 6 in the goddamn morning on a Monday to get to Calculus.

He’s bleary-eyed and campus is basically empty, save for a few other students dragging their feet across the cement on the way to the same classroom as him. At least it’s on the first floor. Derek is pretty sure that if he had to climb stairs, he’d just turn around and go home. There’s still time to drop the class.

He takes a seat in the middle of the room, like he tries to do in every class. He lays his head on the table, closes his eyes, and waits for the rest of the class to filter in. It’s 6:53 and he regrets every decision that led him to this moment.

Everything is quiet until a loud shuffling right next to him rouses him from half-slumber, followed by the loud _thump_ of a backpack hitting the ground, and a groaning moan signifying a satisfying morning stretch. Derek looks over and takes in the long legs and messy hair of the boy sitting next to him, the way the kid licks his lips and rubs at his eyes under his glasses, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s actually awake.

The kid bends over to dig through his backpack, pulling out the textbook, a binder, a pencil case, and a Monster energy drink. There’s already a Starbucks reusable cup on his desk that he takes a long swig of before setting back down on the desk. He takes the top off the mug, pops open the energy drink, and pours the energy drink into his coffee.

Derek takes this all in with the suspicion that he might be dreaming. The boy’s too pretty to be in his 7 am Calc class. No on is that lucky. The boy looks over at Derek and grimaces at him from his squinted eyes. There’s a bit of dried toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.

When he makes eye contact with Derek and says, “I’m going to die,” and chugs the drink, the only thing Derek’s not shocked by is the way the boy’s voice sends a thrill through his entire body.

"That’s disgusting," Derek says. "You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack."

"I’m 18," the boy says, shrugging and licking his lips _again_. “I’ve got a while before I have to actually worry about my heart. I’ve suffered worse.”

Derek groans inwardly. Eighteen means the boy’s a freshman, in a class Derek’s already taken _two_ prereqs for. He’s dumb enough to mix coffee and Monster, but intelligent enough to, what, test into this class? He’s pretty sure that’s not even _possible_.

It’s 6:57 and Derek is thinking about baking Erica thank you cookies, and then maybe some don’t-make-fun-of-me-if-I-date-an-18-year-old cookies. Because he’d be lying if he wasn’t thinking about at least _trying_.

"I’m Stiles," the boy says, reaching a hand over to Derek.

"Derek," Derek says, shaking the boy’s hand. "First semester?"

"Yeah," Stiles says. "Kinda." He stretches, and his t-shirt rides up. There’s a dark, thick line of hair that is visible leading into his jeans.

"How can it be kind of your first semester?" Derek asks. He’s not sure if his eyes are even open anymore, but his head is definitely leaning on the desk again, pillowed by his arms. At least he’s facing Stiles.

"I took some courses here during high school, but I’m officially in college now," Stiles says. "I wish there was another time to take this class though. I want to _die_ just to sleep.” He leans his head _back_ , and yeah, Derek’s eyes are definitely open. There’s no way even in his wildest imagination he could envision such a long, pale neck covered with just the smallest amount of hair near the jaw, like Stiles hasn’t shaved in a day or two.

"Me too," Derek says. "I don’t think I’ve ever taken a class earlier than 10."

"I’m going to have _dreams_ about 10 am,” Stiles moans. He spreads his entire body out, arms above his head, legs spread and stretched as far as they can go beneath the table, toes pointed.

"It’s too early for this," Derek _means_ to think, but accidentally rasps out into the crook of his elbow.

"Mmmmnnyeah," Stiles says, just as the professor walks in, looking way too cheerful for both the time and subject of the class.

Derek uses all of his energy just to stay awake and take notes for the fifty minutes class lasts. He’s got a class at 8, as well, so the second the professor dismisses them with their problem set for Wednesday, Derek has to bolt to try to make it to Starbucks in the ten minutes before his next class.

\---

Stiles is there on Wednesday morning. He shows up at 6:58 with flushed cheeks and a pillow crease on his cheek. He gulps down a Monster in between turning in his problem set and taking notes and making corrections on his second copy of the problem set.

Derek wants to make sure Stiles always wakes up on time to have a cup of coffee before he even leaves his house, giving his skin time to smooth out and go back to its unblemished state. He wants to rub the pillow mark from his cheek in the morning, maybe with his mouth.

Is it too weird to write a note asking Stiles out? Would it be weird to bring him coffee on Friday? How could he figure out how Stiles likes his coffee?

"Dude, did you get them all right?" Stiles asks suddenly, looking over at where Derek hasn’t made any corrections on his copy of the homework.

"Uh, yeah," Derek says.

"Am I going to flunk out of college in my first semester?" Stiles shakes his head and makes more marks on his paper. "I am _not_ going to flunk out of college in my first semester.”

"It’s the second day of class, calm down," Derek says. "We can study together sometime if you want?" It comes out much smoother than he thought it would, and he’s congratulating himself on a job well done when Stiles smiles at him.

"Dude, that would be _amazing_.” Stiles plucks his phone out of his pocket and drops it on Derek’s desk. “Program your number in, dude. Send yourself a text. We’ll get together sometime when I’m well-rested enough to make sense of my own notes.” He squints down at said notes and sends a smirk to Derek.

"I’m free afternoons," Derek says, handing Stiles his cellphone back. "My last class is at one except for Thursday. Thursday I work until five."

"Where do you work?" Stiles asks, sending a text to Derek’s phone when he sees Derek didn’t do it.

"The math center," Derek says. "I’m a tutor."

"Oh, dude, I can just go to the math center for help, you don’t have to, like, pity me or whatever," Stiles says quickly, like he’s completely unaware that Derek wants to lick every inch of his body.

"I like having someone to study with," Derek says, shrugging. "It would be helpful to me as well. I’m just learning this stuff, too, you know."

"Oh. Yeah." Stiles grins at Derek, his lips shiny with spit in a way that Derek is pretty sure he should be disgusted by but instead is completely entranced by.

"Just, text me sometime," Derek says. He’s putting his stuff into his backpack because there’s three minutes left of class and they’ve just been doing their homework for the last fifteen minutes, and if he sprints, he’ll totally be able to make it to his next class, with coffee, on time. "I live just off campus, so it’s no hassle for me to come back to study."

"Study group," Stiles says, eyes big. "I’ve never had a study group before. Is this gonna be like Community?"

"Are you insinuating that I don’t know math and am doing this just to get into your pants?" Derek asks, eyebrow raised and a smile stretching his lips in a way he knows, from past experiences, and lots of field testing, makes him look charming and unthreatening. It’s his flirting smile. Erica calls it his “Come Hither Look.” Capitals and everything. She’s written it down for him.

Stiles’ eyes go so wide his glasses slide down his nose, slowly, comically. He shakes his head, laughing to himself, and pushes them back up. He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t invite a bunch of other people,” he says. “I think I just might want to hog the math tutor classmate to myself.”

"I don’t have a problem with that," Derek says. It’s 7:49. How is he this awake? He’s doing such a good job, Erica is going to be so _proud_. “I’ll see you around, though, I’ve gotta run.”

"Yeah, see you," Stiles says, just starting to pack up his things as the clock hits 7:50 and the professor tells them all to have a good day, he’ll see them on Friday.

\---

It’s 6pm when Stiles _calls_ Derek. Derek answers the phone with a grin, Erica giving him a thumbs up from where she’s making stir fry in the kitchen.

"Hey, Stiles," Derek says. He’s cool, collected. His heart is _definitely_ not in his throat doing somersaults.

"Derek, have you done the problem set because I think college is making me _stupider_. None of these equations even make sense and my graphs all look like inkblot tests, what are those called? Roscoe? Rorschach!” Stiles takes a noisy breath and then continues. “Anyway I can’t make sense of any of this and it’s the first week of class and maybe I’m just not used to being awake at five every morning, but I could really use your help between now and Friday morning before I die of Calculus.”

"What are you doing now?" Derek asks. "Besides freaking out over math?"

"Nothing," Stiles says. He sounds relieved.

"There’s a diner on the corner of Beacon and Third that has really good milkshakes and big enough tables for you to spread out all the papers you’ll need for the assignment. I can meet you there in an hour?" Erica frowns down at the second plate she’s piling high with stir fry and then rolls her eyes at Derek, scraping the food back into the pan.

"Definitely," Stiles says. "I can be there. That’s Mia’s, right?"

"Yeah," Derek says. "I’ll see you in an hour."

"You’re my hero," Stiles says, then hangs up with no goodbye.

\---

Derek gets to the diner five minutes early and orders two coffees, then pulls out his book and starts on the problem set. He’s halfway through the second problem when Stiles throws himself into the booth across from him.

"Oh my god you ordered me coffee marry me," is the first thing Stiles says. He pours an insane amount of sugar into his coffee and then drinks half the cup down in three large gulps that make his Adam’s apple bob and Derek’s mouth water. "Now tell me how to do this nonsense because I’m pretty sure this is written in an ancient alien language."

They spend two hours drinking coffee and doing math together. Thirty minutes in, Stiles switches sides to sit next to Derek so they can work on the same piece of paper together, copying the answer on their own homework when they have it figured out. Derek presses his thigh against Stiles’ when they order a plate of fries to share, and Stiles doesn’t move away.

At nine, Stiles thunks his head down onto the table and doesn’t lift it up.

"I know we’re not done, but I think I get it, and if I do any more homework my eyeballs might _actually_ fall out of my face.” He pulls his glasses off to rub at said eyes, then turns his head to look at Derek. It’s the first time Derek’s seen him without his glasses and, holy shit, his eyes are fucking beautiful, mahogany gold and captivating.

"Yeah," Derek says. "You want to go get a drink or something?"

"I’m underage, dude," Stiles says.

"Beer at my place?" Derek grins his Come Hither grin and just hopes there’s nothing in his teeth.

"I would but I’ve got to be up at five, and I’m about to collapse as it is." Stiles actually sounds sorry, so Derek doesn’t let it hit him hard, but it still hits him lightly. The last time someone said no to him was…three years ago? And yeah, Stiles isn’t saying no, but he’s not offering a— "Raincheck, though? During the weekend, maybe, so I don’t die trying to walk home after?"

"Yeah. Saturday good?" Derek wishes he didn’t sound as relieved as he does, breathy and smitten, but it’s too late to change it now.

"Yeah, Saturday is good. As long as you’re comfortable supplying beer to my underage ass," Stiles ends on a laugh. "Text me your address sometime. I can bring pizza or something. You look like a sausage kinda guy."

Derek can _feel_ himself blushing. Stiles’ smile disappears and his mouth opens as his cheeks go red. “Oh my god I didn’t mean it like that,” Stiles says. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being, um, gay, or bi, um, I’m bisexual! You didn’t need to know that, wow, fuck, this is horrible. Stop me anytime, seriously.”

"I’m bi, too," Derek says, for _no reason_ , wow, this is the worst. “I, um, kind of meant it as a date-like situation,” he confesses. He rolls his eyes at himself.

"How old are you?" Stiles asks.

"21," Derek says. "Why?"

"Okay. So I’m probably not gonna get smoother with age, huh?" He grins. "I’m down for a date-like situation, though. I’ll bring pizza. Saturday. At, like, six? At your place. _Do_ you like sausage though? On your pizza?”

"I’m not picky, but I’m allergic to mushrooms," Derek says. Him and Stiles are probably at the same level of mortification, but they got to the right place in the end, so Derek’s gonna count it as a win. "I’ll see you on Friday?"

"Yeah, bright and early," Stiles says.

"How do you like your coffee?"

Stiles pauses from packing up his things and smiles. “With too much sugar and nothing else,” he says. “The more it tastes like dirt the more I like it. Benefits of growing up with a cop dad.” He stands up and waves with his fingers. “See you Friday. Thanks for the help, dude.”

"Anytime," Derek says. He watches Stiles leave, bewildered and still slightly embarrassed.

\---

He brings Stiles coffee on Friday, and gets a dopey, sleepy grin in return. Erica makes fun of him for “describing your crush by naming dwarves.”

\---

"You need to leave, like, right now," Derek says to Erica for what has to be the fifth time.

"I’m going, gosh, you drama queen." Erica pulls on her jacket and smooths her skirt down and turns to the door. "Have fun on your prude date, you absolute moron. I love you."

She opens the door and Stiles is standing there, his fist raised to knock. It’s exactly six o’clock.

"You two have fun," Erica says with a grin. "Bye, babe!"

Derek rolls his eyes, waves, and holds the door open until Stiles comes in. When he turns to face Stiles, Stiles looks _livid_. “What—”

"Do you have a live-in girlfriend," Stiles somehow _states_ instead of asks.

"No," Derek says. "Oh holy fuck, Erica? No. Roommate. Best friend."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No, Stiles," Derek says. "If I wanted to cheat on my nonexistent girlfriend I wouldn’t put in as much effort as I have with you. And I’d definitely never invite someone over to my _house_. You might think I’m the kind of person who would do something like that, but you can’t think I’m that _stupid_.”

"Sorry," Stiles says. "I’ve, um, literally never been asked out before in my life. I’ve gone on dates and, like, rounded all the bases, home run!" He does a geeky cheer to himself, fist in the air. "But I’ve never been pursued before, so I’m, um, scared?"

"Of me?"

"No!" Stiles covers his face with his hands and groans, loud and dramatic. Derek smiles at him, a full grin, not his flirting smile. "College is terrifying, dude, and I’m a smart fucking guy, okay? But this is all new and scary, and you’re, like, _way_ hotter than me, so I’m just kinda confused.”

"You’re gonna be fine, Stiles," Derek says. "Sit down, I’ll bring you a beer and some pizza. This isn’t supposed to be scary. I’m going for casual. We can get to know each other. No pressure."

"Okay," Stiles says. "Let me help, though. No point in making two trips."

From there, the night is easy. Derek learns that Stiles’ dad is a Sheriff, not just a cop. He tells Stiles about Erica, how he’s known her since he was three years old, literally can’t remember _not_ knowing her. Stiles tells Derek about how his mom told him about bisexuality when he was nine, told him that no matter who he loved, she would always accept him. She died when he was twelve. He came out to his dad on the fourth anniversary of her death. Somehow that felt right.

Derek’s mom had handed his dad a twenty dollar bill when Derek introduced them to his first boyfriend.

"You dated Danny Mahealani?!" Stiles shouts.

"Yeah, when I was seventeen," Derek says.

"Danny was the first boy I ever kissed! This is _awesome_.” Stiles smiles against the mouth of his bottle of beer. “Unless you and Danny hate each other now?”

"We’re friends," Derek says. "Danny was the first boy I kissed, too."

"Oh I beat you there. I was fifteen."

"How long did you and Danny date?" Derek asks.

"We didn’t." Stiles shrugs. "I wanted to kiss a boy, make sure I liked it, before I even _thought_ about coming out to my dad. Danny taught me how to suck—” Stiles chugs the rest of his beer, his cheeks pink, eyes scrunched closed.

Derek laughs loud and heavy, the sound rolling out of his chest almost painfully with the force of it. “He learned that from me,” Derek says, looking at Stiles with soft eyes.

"The thing he does with his tongue?"

"Yeah."

"Where did _you_ learn it?”

Derek shrugs. “Trial and error with Danny.”

"You have made so many guys happy because of that, you hero."

Suddenly, Stiles is _very_ close to Derek, eyes on Derek’s mouth. “I’m going to kiss you, if that’s okay,” he says, quietly, almost a whisper.

"Yeah," Derek says.

The kiss is closed-mouthed but _wet_ , hard and deep somehow. Derek groans against Stiles’ lips and pulls away when Stiles does.

"Um." Stiles licks his lips and Derek is loathe to do anything but watch the movement with hungry eyes. "I want to do so much of that, but I’m not gonna be able to stop if we keep going and, are you okay with that? I just want to touch your entire body."

"I’m okay with that," Derek says. "I am _so_ okay with that. I made Erica leave until tomorrow morning just in case.”

"Oh thank God," Stiles says. "Show me your room and take your pants off."

Derek shakes his head with a grin and pulls Stiles to his feet, dragging him down the hall to his bedroom by the hand. When they get to his room, Stiles pushes Derek onto the bed and follows him, propping himself above Derek on his elbows and kissing him open-mouthed for the first time.

"This is slutty," Stiles says, grinning, sly and sweet and Derek wants to _ruin him_. “But I’m gonna suck your dick. I learned some of my own tricks through trial and error. I’ve been told I have lips made for sucking cock.” He says this thoughtfully, like he’s telling Derek that he’s thinking about getting a tattoo or cutting his hair.

Stiles bites at Derek’s bottom lip, slides his mouth down his throat, pushes his shirt up around his armpits to get to his chest, his stomach. “You’re hairy,” Stiles says. “Fuck, I like that.” It’s an admission punched out of him, like he didn’t know he’d like it. He tugs at the hair on Derek’s chest with his long fingers and Derek arches his chest toward Stiles’ mouth.

"Get your mouth on me, Stiles," Derek says.

"I’m going to put my mouth _all over you_ ,” Stiles promises with a bite to Derek’s nipple. He drags his teeth down Derek’s side and starts working at opening his jeans. “I’m going to suck your cock.” He sucks a bruise onto Derek’s hip. “Then, if you’re okay with it, I’m going to open you up with my mouth, my fingers, and milk you until you come all over yourself.”

He licks up the underside of Derek’s cock as soon as he gets it uncovered. He sucks the head into his mouth, tongues at the slit, hums vibrations into his skin.

"Yes, fuck, all of that." Derek clenches his hands into his comforter as Stiles pulls him deeper into his mouth, bobbing up and down, messy and sloppy, but hot, tight. Stiles’ lips are dark pink and stretched wide against the base of Derek’s dick, and there’s a smile in Stiles’ eyes when they make eye contact.

"Your mouth, Stiles, damn." He gets his fingers into Stiles’ hair, rubs and scratches at his scalp as Stiles _purrs_ around his cock. Stiles presses a dry finger against his perineum and rubs lightly against his hole. Derek bucks up and then hurries out an apology. “I’m so sorry, god, you’re so fucking good.”

"Fuck, I need to get my mouth on your ass," Stiles says, pulling off with an obscene _pop_. He works on pulling Derek’s pants off, struggling against his shoes and basically throwing the clothing across the room as soon as he gets them off. “And just a warning, if you keep telling me how good I am I’m gonna come on your blanket. Turn around?”

Derek hurries to turn onto his stomach, pulling his knees under him but leaving his shoulders on the bed. He reaches back to pull his cheeks apart. “Get your tongue inside me,” he says.

"Yeah, one second." Derek looks back to see Stiles pulling a bunch of stuff out of his pockets. He catches Derek’s eye and grins. "Lube, glove, dental dam. Uh. Condom. It was all just in case."

"You should fuck me," Derek says. "You should make me come with your mouth and your fingers and then again on your dick."

Stiles groans and pushes the heel of his hand against his crotch. “Yes.” His voice is heavier, deeper than it was just a second ago. “I can do that. I can so do that.” He grabs at the dental dam and opens it up. “Give me some pointers if you need me to change anything.”

Then he’s just there, licking around Derek’s hole and stroking along the insides of his thighs while Derek holds himself open. His tongue is hot and smooth through the dental dam, his fingers calloused, pressing what Derek hopes will be bruises in the morning.

"Give me a finger," Derek moans against his pillow, hoping it’s loud enough for Stiles to hear. One of Stiles’ hands leaves Derek’s thigh and there’s the ripping of aluminum, the stretch and snap of latex, and then more ripping noises. It’s followed by a lube slick finger prodding underneath the dam, rubbing slick onto the rim of Derek’s hole before pressing sure and steady into him all the way to the knuckle.

Derek groans, loud, and bucks his hips back against Stiles’ face, his hand.

"Can you come untouched or do you need a hand?" Stiles asks. "I can finger you while I blow you?"

"Two fingers. Keep your mouth where it is. Harder, fuck, Stiles, _harder_.” Derek’s not sure he’s ever talked this much, this easily, during sex. Especially his first time with someone.

Stiles pushes in a second finger and Derek stops thinking, stops worrying. He focuses on the slick drag of Stiles’ fingers, the way they keep angling differently to try to find his prostate. He focuses on the hot sting of the stretch when Stiles tugs lightly at his rim on the out stroke. Stiles’ tongue is a flat pressure on the outside of his hole before it spears inside him next to his fingers, licks around right on the inside of his hole.

"There," Derek shouts, arching his back and rolling his hips into Stiles’ fingers when he hits Derek’s prostate. Stiles rubs the pads of his fingers against Derek’s prostate on the in stroke, scissors his fingers in a light massage against the gland. Derek _knows_ that he’s moaning like he’s auditioning for porn, but Stiles is good, and he can't bring himself to care. “God, there, you’re amazing, want you inside me all the time. You feel so good.” Stiles moans against Derek’s ass and starts moving his fingers faster.

"Are you close?" Stiles asks. "I want to fuck you so bad, I bet you’re so tight. I bet you’ll be so sensitive, twitching and hot around my cock after you come."

Stiles keeps his fingers against Derek’s prostate and massages, light and then hard, and Derek feels himself clench, hard, and comes with a surprised _yelp_. It’s the most undignified noise he’s ever made during sex.

"Shit," Stiles says, pulling his fingers back but not out, stretching around Derek’s rim, pressing in a third finger even as he pulls away the dental dam. "That was hot. Do you still want me to fuck you? I’m…probably not going to last long, honestly.”

"Yes," Derek says. "Fuck me. I’ll be so loose and relaxed for you. Want you to come inside me."

"I’m wearing a condom," Stiles says, sure and pointed.

"Of course you are," Derek says. "That’s not what I meant. I just want to feel the heat of it when you come." Derek buries his hot face even further into the pillow.

Stiles pulls his fingers out and taps Derek on his ribs. “Can we do this face to face?”

"Yeah," Derek says, rolling over. He’s laying in his own come, and his dick is only half-hard, but Derek feels like he’s floating. Stiles leans down to kiss him. "We’re going to get tested," Derek says suddenly. "And then I want to be able to taste myself on your tongue after you eat me out."

Stiles groans into Derek’s open mouth and licks heavy and sure against his teeth. “Yeah,” Stiles says. He’s pulling at his pants, helped along by Derek’s fumbling hands.

"Then you can come inside me," Derek adds. "Or finger your come into me after jerking off onto my stomach."

Stiles curses and pushes his pants the rest of the way off. He fumbles the condom on his dick and slicks himself up in a hurry. It hits Derek hard that it’s the first he’s seeing of Stiles’ dick. Derek reaches for his own cock and strokes himself back to hardness, helping himself along with his fantasies.

"Fuck me," he says, pulling Stiles in for a kiss that’s more biting than anything.

"Yeah," Stiles says. He pushes the thick head of his cock against Derek’s hole, and it’s hotter than Derek could have ever imagined, though it’s not actually any hotter than any other dick he’s had inside him.

"Later, I’m going to blow you," Derek says as Stiles pushes into him. He’s thick and throbbing and Derek’s hole feels used and loose in the best way. "I didn’t get to touch your cock, barely got to see it. Want to taste it."

"Yeah," Stiles repeats. He’s pushing in slowly, steady until he bottoms out.

"Move," Derek says immediately. " _Fuck me_.”

"God," Stiles says, pulling out and pushing in, hard and fast. "You’re so fucking _bossy_.”

"Good thing?" Derek guesses, pressing up into Stiles’ thrusts, scratching at his back, licking at any bit of skin he can reach.

"So good," Stiles says. His thrusts stay hard and fast, pressing deep into Derek and pulling almost all the way out, teasing at Derek’s rim with the head of his cock.

Derek jerks himself off between them, keeping pace with Stiles’ quick thrusts, and it’s not long before he feels the heat of orgasm sparking in his spine. Stiles is sweaty and flushed above him, moving fast and biting at his own lips. His mouth is a swollen mess, noises falling loud and half-formed from it.

"Kiss me," Stiles moans out, quick and bitten-off, like he didn’t want to say it. Like he feels ashamed for wanting to kiss the man he’s currently fucking. Like maybe he’s asked for it before and had it held against him.

Derek doesn’t give a shit _why_ he asks like that, just that he does, and that Derek can change it. Derek reaches up to pull Stiles’ face to his, bites at his bottom lip and then soothes it with his tongue. He eats at Stiles’ mouth, desperate and deep and as filthy as he knows how, until Stiles is pushing up into his body and staying there. Derek can feel the way Stiles’ cock twitches inside him, then everything is a little warmer.

Stiles falls down onto Derek’s chest for a second, before he remembers himself. He lifts himself up and reaches down for Derek’s dick, pumping him while he rolls his hips, his still-hard dick pressing and rubbing against Derek’s prostate.

Derek closes his eyes and pushes his nails into Stiles’ shoulders. “Fuck, ‘m close.”

"Then come for me," Stiles says. "I didn’t get to see your face last time. Bet you’re gorgeous when you come."

Derek opens his eyes and Stiles is _right there_ , watching him like he ever wants to look away, like he wants to memorize every piece of Derek. Coupled with an extra hard pressure on Derek’s prostate, it’s just enough to make him come all over Stiles’ fingers and both of their stomachs, a roiling, aching orgasm that he can feel all the way to his fingertips.

"Fuck," Stiles says as he pulls out. He doesn’t move away, though, just drops his weight onto Derek’s chest and nuzzles at his collarbone. "You’re great."

"Mmm, you too," Derek says. "Nap."

"Let’s clean up a little," Stiles says. "You stay here. Bathroom?"

"End of the hall," he says. "The room with the toilet."

"Charming," Stiles replies, walking out of the room naked as the day he was born, almost too confidant in Derek’s house. It makes a warmth bloom in Derek’s chest when Stiles comes back with a washcloth, warm and wet, and wipes at Derek’s chest and stomach. "All clean."

"I’m still laying in come," Derek mumbles, rolling across the bed. Stiles laughs and swipes at the mess on Derek’s lower back before dragging the cloth down between his cheeks to sooth at his hole and get rid of the remnants of lube.

"Want me to get a new blanket?"

"I got it," Derek says. He stretches and then stands up, gratified that Stiles is staring at him with his mouth open, his eyes focused on Derek’s ass. "Strip that blanket off, yeah? Just ball it up and throw it in the corner. I’ll wash it later."

When he gets back with a new blanket, Stiles is laying on the bed on his side, facing the center of the bed. “You’re the little spoon,” he says to Derek.

"Yeah, okay," Derek says. "Nap, then I’m gonna fuck you into my mattress. Mess up another blanket."

"Promise?" Stiles’ eyes are already closed. Derek curls his back against Stiles’ front and pulls the blanket up around them.

"Yeah," Derek says.

\---

Erica yells at them when she comes home the next morning to Derek on his knees in the kitchen, blowing Stiles while their breakfast gets cold on the island Stiles is leaning against. It’s worth it. 

Erica calls Stiles porn-star-twink-cute and tells him that Derek had braces for five years and hasn’t stopped talking about Stiles since they met.

"It’s gonna be great when I get to tell people you guys met because the first words you said to Derek were ‘I’m going to die.’" Erica grins and steals the rest of Derek’s bacon.

"Coffee and Monster are really gross together," Stiles says. "In case you were wondering."

_Worth it_ , he mouths at Derek, bumping him with his shoulder and threading their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr as slutstilinski. I write porn sometimes.


End file.
